I'll Even Give Her Mine
by apychopathsutopia
Summary: "So... Arnold had cheated on his girlfriend. My man Arnold. Cheated. On his girlfriend. But it was the way that he said it that really interested me: he just said it. It was a statement to him, not a confession, or a heart-wrenching admission of guilt. He said it the same way he'd tell me he was out of sugar." Don't own! Tell me how I did!
1. I'll Even Give Her Mine

It was just a normal morning. It was my day off, (neither my wife nor I work weekends), so I woke up at 8, stayed in bed with my wife until 8: 30, made her breakfast, (as terrible as I am at cooking, it was my turn), and sat down for a nice meal and an invigorating cup of Joe. But then I heard this rapid knocking at my door, and when I glanced at the clock, I cocked an eyebrow. Who the hell comes to somebody's house at 9 am?, I remember thinking. What's so important that you have to get out of bed, and travel to someone's house before McDonald's stops serving breakfast sandwiches? I exchanged a confused glance with my wife, before I just shrugged and went to see who it was.

I peeked through the peephole to prepare myself, but I was met with the sight of my best friend. He apparently had a rough night, judging by appearance: his hair was flopping forward, (as opposed to sticking straight up like it usually did, much to his hilarious chagrin), his eyes were sporting heavy bags, and he was wringing his hands nervously. I immediately unlocked the door, and as soon as we made eye contact, he blurted out, "I cheated on Lila."

It took me a second to really understand what he had just said. So... Arnold had cheated on his girlfriend. My man Arnold. Cheated. On his girlfriend. But it was the way that he said it that really interested me: he just _said_ it. It was a _statement_ to him, not a confession, or a heart-wrenching admission of guilt. He said it the same way he'd tell me he was out of sugar. Casual, but neutral, like the issue wasn't something to be taken personally. After he said that, he just stared at me, waiting for me to say something, but I seriously just didn't know how to react.

His eyes swept me up and down, and he groaned, shaking his head. "Please say something."

"U-uh," I stuttered, rubbing the back of my neck and averted my eyes. I sighed deeply and said, "Okay, man, come in. Tell me what happened."

He let out a breath, following me into the apartment, and said clearly thankfully, "Thanks."

"Hey, Babe," I greeted my wife, kissing her on the cheek and taking a gulp of my coffee. "Arnold and I are gonna go into the bedroom for a little bit. I'm not sure how long we'll be, but everything's fine, Babe, I promise."

She glanced over at Arnold who smiled meekly and waved, and I could tell by her eyes that she was most certainly unconvinced, but she nodded anyway, turning back to the crossword puzzle she had started while I was gone.

I gestured for Arnold to follow me into Phoebe and my bedroom, and as I closed the door behind me, I and folded my arms and tried to settle a listless look on him. I'm pretty sure it came off as more concerned than anything, though. I mean, I was under the impression that my man Arnold was true blue; I _never_ would've guessed he'd cheat on anybody. In saying that, I had this chilly feeling that I knew just exactly who he was with last night... But something must've happened to make Arnold do that, and it could _not_ have been good.

Arnold just collapsed on the side of my bed, and dropped his head in his hands. "Gerald, I feel like... I feel like I should feel like a jerk, but I... don't."

My best friend not feeling guilty about anything was... something new. Arnold always found some reason to feel bad; no matter what the situation was, no matter how little he was involved, he always managed to snag some of the blame for himself. And, sure, cheating isn't just one person's fault, but it _was_ half Arnold's fault, and, best friend or not, I wasn't going to sugar-coat it for him. I sighed, (not really knowing how to respond to that just yet), and sat beside him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Alright, man, tell me what happened."

Without lifting his head, he spoke. "Lila was out of town this weekend," he said quietly. "She was visiting an uncle or something like that, so I was all by myself, with no one to hang out with. You're still all honeymoon phase with Phoebe, so I didn't want to bother you, so I called..." he groaned, slouching even further. "I called... Gerald, I called _Helga_."

I remember my brain pausing in thought, but my heart dropped down into my stomach with when what he said actually hit me. The relationship between Arnold and Helga was... _complicated_ to say the least. Ever since seventh grade when Helga quit being a bully, I could've sworn they were permanently suction-cupped to each other's side. They spent _so much_ time together, going to the movies, taking walks in the park, spending hours trying to beat each other at every game in the arcade. For the longest time, everybody thought they were dating, (me included), but they always denied it. _Adamantly_ , and, in Helga's case, occasionally violently. But the annoying thing is: when they finally _did_ sort out their differences enough to be around each other, they _still_ argued like nobody's business. And it was _all the time_ , too, because they were _always_ with each other. Nobody could wrench them a part, not me, not Phoebe, not Helga's parents or Arnold's grandparents. Nobody. They were so inseparable, it made me sick.

One winter afternoon, during junior year, I walked into Arnold's bedroom to find the two of 'em going at it like wild animals, writhing around on Arnold's bed, pawing at clothing, biting necks, sucking each other's faces off, the whole nine yards. I didn't want to interrupt them, but I guess my gasp of surprise reached their ears because they both freaked out; Arnold scrambled off of her, and Helga groaned softly and dropped her head into her hands. There was this awkward silence before I asked them what was going on. The second the last syllable left my mouth, Arnold just blurted out that he had _no_ romantic feelings for her whatsoever. I watched in shock as Helga's head snapped up, a dark scowl on her face, and she jumped up from the bed. She cussed him out quietly, (so quiet, I couldn't make any of the words out), and then just _slapped_ my man Arnold across the face, and then hightailed it out of his skylight. After that, Arnold, as politely as he could, asked me to leave. The whole rest of the week they wouldn't talk to each other, but they obviously wanted to. I got an earful from Arnold about her that I mostly tuned out. Then that Friday, after school, it happened again: I walked into Arnold's room, and Arnold had Helga pinned against the wall, (both lacking shirts), and he was biting her neck. And when I say 'biting her neck,' I mean it looked like he was trying to _eat_ her. (Though, from the way things were looking, eating her was definitely on his mind.) They heard me, panicked, denied, and Helga booked it from the room shortly after that. Arnold invited me in, with the condition that I not speak a word, to him or anybody else, about what I had just seen. My eyes were burning and the sight didn't really make sense to me, so I very happily obliged. Pretty regularly after that, Arnold would show up to my house on the day we had plans, with disheveled hair and an inside-out shirt. He never told me, and I never asked questions, but I was pretty sure I knew what was going on, and knew Arnold knew I knew.

At the beginning of senior year, Arnold started dating some girl he met at his job at the pet store. She bought a bunny, I remember, and was basically a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Lila. Helga and Arnold didn't hang out much after that, but one month later, out of the blue, Arnold broke up with Bunny McGee, and suddenly the dynamic duo were back in business, and they acted liked nothing had changed: they still bickered, argued, (sometimes so passionately, I was sure one of 'em would smack the other), and teased each other mercilessly. And there were crazy rumors after that, like Helga broke the two of them up, Arnold cheated with Helga and got her pregnant, the bunny girl broke up with Arnold because she thought there was something going on after they all had a three-way and Arnold paid more attention to Helga than her. It was a pretty crazy time to say the least.

After high school, they went to separate colleges, so they sorta took a _break_ , or whatever you want to call it, but they still sort of kept in touch. It's pretty much impossible for them to escape each other, anyway, because Arnold's my best friend, and I'm married to Helga's best friend. And ever since our wedding, (about six months ago), and Arnold and Helga were best man and maid of honor respectively, they'd rekindled their... friendship. (I guess I can call it that; I never saw any signs that they were hooking up or anything, so I'd _assumed_ it was platonic.) It was just like high school, all over again; they went to the movies every Thursday, (because that was the day of the week Helga hated the most, and Arnold wanted to make something special of it to make her feel better), Helga would crash at his apartment every so often, (which, in hindsight, should have waved a red flag for me, but I just refused to see it), and you could never find Helga without Arnold by her side.

A month ago, on the one day that the two lovebirds weren't together, Arnold ran into Lila at the grocery store, and she asked him on a date. To be honest, I had never really... liked Lila very much. Sure, she was a great girl. Nice, polite, good at baking deserts, but, even when my man Arnold was all gaga for her in elementary school, I could never picture them together. I helped him, of course, he's my best friend, but she always seemed too _vanilla_ for him. He needed... cinnamon, or nutmeg, or chili powder. So when Arnold actually said yes to the inevitably boring relationship, I went along with it, despite the fact that I knew he'd get bored eventually. He enjoys excitement, and Lila is anything but; he likes the thrill of the chase and fast roller coasters, and Lila is all about slow-paced merry-go-rounds and strolls through the park. I can't imagine him actually liking being in a relationship with that girl, not in a million years, but the weird part was, he didn't even seem all that excited when he told me about it. It was just your standard, "I've got a date with Lila this Friday. I'm taking her to dinner." Boom. End of story. He didn't ask me for advice on what to say and what not to say, he didn't ask if a suit was too much, or if she would like the sort of flowers he got for her, or if he should buy new cologne. I'm pretty sure he just wore a pair of nice jeans and a button up, and gave her a dandelion or something he picked in the park. That's a bit exaggerated, but bottom line is he didn't try for that girl. Actually, she kinda flung herself at him, and Arnold just sorta accepted her attention. He never initiated dates; he never called her to invite her out anywhere; he never 'reported' back to me about how the dates went, and when I asked he just shrugged and said they were 'okay.' Now that I think about it, were they even really dating to begin with? Or did they just sort of... spend time together and call it a date? If that's what dating is, then Arnold and Helga have been a couple for even longer and Phoebe and I, and it seems like we've been together forever. (Even though we started dating in eight grade, after much coaxing from Arnold and Helga. Go figure.)

So, anyway, when Arnold got his quote-unquote girlfriend, I _forced_ myself not to be worried about Arnold and Helga being alone anymore once Arnold and Lila started dating. We're all adults, we know how to reel in sexual desires, _especially_ if we already have a significant other, so I figured they'd gotten over whatever weird relationship they used to have. Guess I was wrong.

Anyway, that being said, I wasn't _completely_ surprised that they'd done something together. I _was_ , however, surprised that Arnold had invited her over to begin with, knowing his track record with one Helga G. Pataki. That was why my jaw just dropped and I said, "You called _Helga_?"

Arnold groaned, but didn't answer anything more in depth than a nod.

I shook my head. "You _are_ aware of what happens when you and Helga are alone, right?"

I expected him to just moan and self-depreciate, but instead he jumped to his feet and gave me a desperate, panicked look. "But I can't help it, Gerald! I always want to be around her; she makes me feel amazing, and she's so beautiful, and so smart, and she's so good with words, but she's just so different from Lila and she would _never_ go out with me! She said it herself!" He shook his head, looking to be lost in his own world. "I didn't ask her or anything, but she just... let it slip. She would _never_ date anybody. Dating wasn't her _scene_ , whatever the hell that means." He started pacing, (well, more like stomping), around the room, his hands gesticulating grandly as he spoke in a harsh voice. "I've been feeling all messed up inside, ever since... _preschool,_ when I first met Helga and she constantly made my life a living hell! Every day since I was three, it was, 'Helga called me this,' and 'Helga threw this at me,' and 'Helga humiliated me in front of everyone _again_ by doing _this_!' It was all the time, it never stopped! Even when I was thinking about other girls, I was thinking about Helga! Every thought I've ever had has come right back to her! Every dream I've ever had, there she is, fucking _everything_ up!" I gaped at him; Arnold never swears. But, then again, he looked pretty worked up, and even Arnold has his limits. "Rhonda told me we were supposed to get married, Gerald! She told me that one hundred and ten times! And the more I thought about it, the more I was just kinda... _okay_ with it!"

"Arnold, that was in fourth grade -"

"But that's just it, isn't it, Gerald?" he suddenly yelled at me, stopping in tracks and staring straight through me. "I was just casually okay marrying Helga when I was _nine_! She was at her _worst_ when we were nine! And just because that whole marriage calculator thing happened fifteen years ago... Gerald, I'm _still_ thinking about it! I _still_ have dreams about it! And every time I almost forget, every time I'm on the edge of falling off Helga tower and plummeting to sweet relief, I have that stupid fucking dream! And every time I have it, it seems more and more inviting!" He started pacing again, speaking as if I wasn't even there. "I hadn't seen her face in four years before your wedding, and every girl I dated during that time was pretty much... Helga! The closer to Helga, the more I liked her! But none of them even came _close_! And the second I saw her, looking absolute stunning in her bridesmaids dress, it all came rushing back to me like a slap in the face! All the nights she snuck into my room to watch horror movies, every candle lit dinner that was _completely_ platonic, every laugh, every cry, every kiss, and _every single time_ she let me fuck her brains out!" Okay that last part I would never have expected... "We used to fool around _all the time_! And does that sound like me? No! Because Helga drives me absolutely _crazy_ , and I can't seem to get away from her! Every time I try to, she chases me, catches me, and reels me back in! And it's _amazing_ , Gerald! I never feel as alive as I do when I'm with her; it's intoxicating! I can never get enough of Helga G. Pataki, and that terrifies me! She doesn't settle down; she told me so herself! She's a 'no-strings attached kind of girl,' is what she told me. Well, _I'm_ a strings attached kind of guy! I want to fall in love, date, get married, have kids, and grow old with my soul mate! And I've already made it to step one, Gerald!"

I remember my brain replaying his words before getting stuck on that last part. "Wait, you love her?"

Arnold sighed, his energy visibly draining. "With all my heart. But I can't have her. She'll give me her body, but she told me no man can have her soul. And that's _exactly_ what I want. I'll even give her mine, but I just can't keep running in circles like this! Dating girls, cheating on them, breaking their hearts, and then just running back to Helga. I can't get her out of my head. She's... she's a _part_ of me now. She always has been, and I can't just get her _amputated_."

"Do you... _want_ to get her amputated?" I asked oddly, unsure of how to ask the question, but I figured I'd just go with his metaphor. It worked.

The was a long pause, but it ended when he just groaned and shook his head. "No. I don't want to lose her."

"Arnold, you need to tell her how you feel," I said with a sigh, watching him stop in place and stare at me, an eyebrow raised incredulously. "This cycle you're talking about will just keep going if she never knows your feelings. I mean, you're both adults; what's the worst that could happen?"

He looked me over with a neutral, (and yet somehow still chastising), expression. "She could cuss me out, order me to never speak to her again, and walk out of my life for good."

I nodded slowly, grimacing in realization. "Okay, that's pretty bad, but if she is as attached to you as you say she is, she can't possibly think of you as just a friend. I mean, you guys have been having sex since junior year -"

"Gerald, we had sex when we were fifteen," Arnold said, putting his hands on his hips with a blank expression on his face.

My eyes widened, and, yeah, I'll be honest, that stung a little bit. " _Freshman year_?! You guys have been a thing since _freshman year_?!"

Arnold nodded, looking distracted and barely making eye contact with me. "Yeah. Remember that time Helga came to school limping and told everybody she sprained her ankle jump roping?"

My entire world just flipped upside down when he said that, because I remember that ordeal like it was yesterday. I laughed at her until I cried, because she was a _freshman_ , jumping rope like a common _nine-year-old_. She had blushed scarlet when I made fun of her, and, upon figuring out _why_ her face was so red, everything just sort of aligned... I _finally_ realized why Arnold was blushing too... I _finally_ realized why her limping seemed so much stranger than the limping from your average sprained ankle, (I always thought it was my imagination, but she seemed to switch feet every now and again)... I _finally_ realized why it only lasted like a couple of days _maximum_... Despite my mind ringing, I decided to bring myself back to the conversation. "How come you never told me?"

"I was in love with her, and she only liked sleeping with me. _And_ she was one of my best friends," Arnold said in a quiet voice. "If I told you, you would've made me say something to her, and... come on, we were _freshman_! I wasn't even close to being ready to let her go!"

"But if she likes you, too, then you guys could've been together this whole time instead of dancing around each other like a couple of morons," I pointed out, folding my arms over my chest. I did feel for my man Arnold, I swear, but it's just so weird learning all this stuff about your best friend like ten years after it all happened. I get why he didn't tell me... sorta...

"Hey," Arnold said with a halfhearted scowl. " _I'm_ the only moron here. I've been in love with Helga since I was three, and haven't done anything about it. All this time... I've kissed her, taken her on dates that we don't call dates, flirted with her, spent countless hours holding her whenever she got sad, getting ice cream and tampons for her, made love to her, and pretty much been a boyfriend, to a girl that doesn't even like me like that. But it's not that that I'm annoyed about: it's the fact that she _doesn't know I feel this way_. I'm whipped, completely gone for her." He sighed, and my heart felt for him at how heartbroken he sounded. But seriously? Three? I've said it once, and I'll say it again: my man Arnold is _bold_. "If that's not the symptoms of a moron, I don't know what is."

"Yeah, you most definitely _are_ a moron," (contextual-wise) the most ironic voice said. "Twenty-two years later, and you still haven't spilled your soul to me. I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Dr. Phil wannabe."

The speed in which Arnold spun around to face the girl standing in my bedroom doorway was laughable. His eyes were wide in shock, his entire body tense, and his mouth gaped. He sputtered a little bit, before choking out, " _H-Helga_? What are you doing here?"

Helga laughed, leaning against the doorway and folding her arms over her chest. "Right now I'm getting a good 'ol chuckle at you after having listened to that hilarious conversation." You could see the amusement in her face as she watched Arnold get all embarrassed and irritated, but then she said something that just about made my week, and I'm sure made Arnold's entire life: "But about ten minutes before that, I came over here to gush to Phoebe that the man I've loved since preschool just had sex with me again after - what - almost a _year_ of tiptoeing around each other, like _morons_?"

If Arnold's reaction before was funny, his face after she said that was probably one of the funniest things I've ever seen. It looked like it came straight out of a comedy; his eyes were HUGE, his mouth falling slightly open, his posture slouching slightly. Oh my God... I couldn't stop laughing... I was so happy that the two of them were too distracted with each other to kick me out, because I was so damn curious.

Helga waited patiently, (well, patiently for her), for Arnold to say something, anything, even to grunt or something, but he just stood there. It wasn't until about ten seconds later when his mouth snapped shut and he blinked rapidly, finally snapping out of whatever stupor he'd been in. He said in this quiet voice, "U-uh... Helga... um... how long... long were you, um... howmuchdidyouhear?"

I rolled my eyes at him. Out of her entire speech, and all that he retained was that she was in the same room as him? He's always been dense, but he pretty much just rejected her love declaration, and I could tell by the amused look on Helga's face that she was thinking the same thing.

"Well... I distinctly remember you yelling, 'I was just casually okay marrying Helga when I was _nine_ ,' and after that, I figured I deserved to listen to the rest of whatever the hell pow wow just happened in here." She didn't even let the poor guy answer; she just rolled her eyes, strolled the length of the room until she was standing right in front of him. "I love you," she said casually, as if she were asking him how his day was, and then she just grabbed his shirt front and planted this huge kiss on his lips. It only lasted a second, and then she pulled back and said, "Break up with Lila."

Arnold just nodded eagerly and gushed, "Absolutely," before grabbing her face and pretty much mauling her mouth. I stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, expecting them to stop because I was, you know... _standing in the same room as them_ , but if anything they just got closer and closer 'til the point where they should've melded into one human being.

When Helga moaned, I figured that was my cue to leave, so with a short, "Don't do it on my bed," I left the room to join my wife at the kitchen table so we could finish our breakfast. Our completely _normal_ breakfast, in which I completely forgot about the mess that was the relationship between my man Arnold and that psycho Helga Pataki.


	2. We Are NOTHING Alike!

I don't know, I like writing from Gerald's perspective, so I wrote a sequel. Enjoy!

* * *

"Alright: freshly popped popcorn for me," I placed the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, "red licorice for the lady," I handed the bag to my wife, "a couple of glasses of wine," I winked at her while I poured us some alcoholic goodness, "and a whole line of comedies set out and ready for watchin'! Let this movie night officially _begin_!"

I plopped down next to my wife, propping my feet up on the coffee table, and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She giggled up at me, her cheeks lightly blushed, and her brown eyes wide and happy, and she looked just so beautiful... This compulsion to kiss her until she couldn't breath overcame me, and I started leaning down to meet her lips. And then I just thought: did I even _want_ to watch the movies anymore...

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

I groaned, pulling back in irritation, and squeezing my eyes shut. "That _better_ not be who I think it is."

My wife smiled softly at me and nodded. "In all likelihood, I'd say it is. It's been four months since they last broke up and got back together again. It was only a matter of time before there was another tiff, and one of them came around to seek our comfort." She glanced at the glass of wine that she had clutched in her small fingers, and sighed. "I admit, this isn't the most _convenient_ time for a crisis, but they are our best friends. And, although it doesn't look like it from first glance, they are meant for each other. I just wish the road wasn't so bumpy."

"Babe, it's always been bumpy, ever since -"

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The knocks on our door were even more insistent than before, and I shook my head, pushing myself up from the couch with a huff. "Well... there goes our day off..." I mumbled, placing my glass of wine on the coffee table and walking over to the front door to open it.

I looked through the key hole, immediately felt the urge to punch something, but settled on resting my forehead against the splintery wood. It took me a few seconds to gather the patience to open the door.

He didn't say anything when we made eye contact. I knew he knew I knew.

The uncomfortable silence only lasted for a few more seconds, before I said, "What are you doing here, Arnold?"

Arnold rubbed the back of his neck and stared at his feet. "I'm not... interrupting anything, am I?"

I faked an incredulous look, my annoyance at having been interrupted translating into sarcasm, and said, " _You_? Interrupting something when you know me and Phoebe don't work tomorrow? And it's a Saturday? And it's nine o'clock at night? No, _never_."

He sighed. "Look, Gerald, I know you're aware of what's going on, but this time..." He hesitated, his eyes flicking back up to meet mine, before dropping back to his shoes. "This time it was much, _much_ worse."

The anger in me dissolved a little bit. Usually when Arnold came over after a fight with Helga, he was still a little angry and just needed someone to rant to, but he seemed really _serious_ this time. Because he wasn't looking, I took the chance to really take in his appearance: he wasn't wearing a coat, despite the fact that it was early February, his hair was all disheveled, and even his arms were flushed from whatever fight he had just been in. And his voice... it was quieter than normal. Like he was... actually sad or something. I found that a little startling; Arnold was hardly ever sad after a fight with Helga. Usually it was just residual anger, followed by inevitable lovemaking that probably shook their whole apartment. (Sometimes I regret pointing them in the direction of the empty room a couple floors beneath us. I swear, I can hear them sometimes.)

I shook my head and stood out of the way so he could come in. "Alright, man, tell me what happened."

Arnold's head lifted up, (a little too slow for my taste), and there was this earnest, and yet mostly unreadable expression in his eyes. "Really? I don't want to impose -"

I rolled my eyes, gesturing him in. "You already ruined the mood, anyway, might as well finish the job."

* * *

"Is it cool if Phoebe sticks around?" I asked, handing him a glass of wine, and watching in disdain as he downed the whole thing in one gulp.

Arnold shook his head, but said, "Yeah, that'll actually be better. I need someone from Helga's court to weigh in on this. I just... I'm lost here."

After Arnold's third glass of wine, I put the bottle under the coffee table as a subtle way of cutting him off. My man's not a light-weight or anything, but I did not want him tipsy while trying to explain his Helga problem. Even sober it'd be hard to put into words. But drunk? Forget about it. He didn't notice my action, or, if he did, he didn't say anything. He was a bit spacey, and he wouldn't stop staring at the empty glass in his hand. His eyes were dark, his skin was paler than normal, and he was chomping down on his bottom lip something fierce. I mean, that kid always has me worried; the only person I know that's as reckless and impulsive as him is Helga, so I always considered their relationship to be a match made in hell. They bring out the worst in each other. But somehow they bring out the best, too, and Arnold's never as happy as he is when Helga's right beside him. Even when they're fighting, he's got this twinkle in his eyes. Bottom line, the guy's a goner. No going back. And that's what baffled me so much about that moment. I mean, Helga and Arnold were so on-again off-again, they give me whiplash on a regular basis. Their off-agains are _painful_ for everybody around them, but especially themselves. I don't really know how Helga gets, because she usually only talks to Phoebe when they've broken up, but Arnold is always a _mess_. He slams doors without even really meaning to; he eats a _lot_ of strawberries; and if he so much as hears her name, he'll leave the room. Their _on_ -agains, however, are passionate and kinda scary to witness, but there's this weird normalness to it. Like the fighting is just what _happens_ with them.

I will never understand their messed up relationship.

So... if they broke up, then for about a week of Arnold sleeping on the couch in his living room, they'd eventually get back together again. And, sure, this was only day one, but Arnold seemed... broken. I'm pretty sure if his emotions were on the outside, he'd be a mangled corpse. He looked so drained and depressed, a part of me wanted to hate Helga just for making him that way to begin with. I'd like to think Arnold would be happier without her, but that's the biggest lie not even Sid would believe.

I cleared my throat to get his attention, and waited until he looked up at me. And damn, I almost wish he didn't. I'd never seen his eyes so... dead. But I didn't want to worry him by being worried, so I said, "So, Arnold. What happened?"

Arnold averted his eyes, pausing for a really long time and thrusting Phoebe and I into his depressed silence. Just before I thought he wasn't going to answer me, he said, "I proposed to her."

His voice was so quiet, so timid, so... almost _embarrassed_ that I almost didn't hear him. Arnold had been talking about proposing for a while now, but only in passing and usually after a few drinks. I didn't know he was actually _serious;_ I thought it was just the result of his drunken musings, but that theory wasn't without reason: he would always start the conversation with something stupid like, "If I ask Helga to marry me, do you think she'd punch me in the face?" To which my drunken ass would laugh and say, "Probably. But then she'd say yes. Then she'd let you fuck her, and then she'd punch you again. Girls got issues."

Arnold hates when I even playfully insult her. One time, he actually smacked me in the back of the head for saying something like that. Sure, it didn't really hurt, but usually Arnold's more of an ask-questions-first kinda guy. I mean... I love Helga the same way anybody would hate their sibling, so I didn't really mean anything by it, but leave it to Mr. Protective to step up to defend her honor by immediately resorting to physical violence. He loves the _hell_ out of her; if anybody actually insulted her with the intent to hurt her feelings, there's a good chance Arnold would go homicidal.

In saying that, I knew she must've said no to him. Because if she said yes, Arnold would be in his bed right now, doing the you-know-what with you-know-who. And I'm pretty sure I'd _definitely_ hear that one.

Just as I opened my mouth to answer him, Phoebe said delicately, "I take it it didn't go well?"

Arnold sighed, turning his gaze back to the glass in his hands. "Yeah. She said no."

Even though I was pretty much expecting that, considering his behavior, the way he said that just about killed me. He was so... resigned about it. Basically he had just said to me, "My dreams are dead and the woman I love doesn't love me anymore," and his face definitely resembled a man who really had just lost the love of his life. I mean, he hadn't told me what happened yet, but worst case scenarios were flying through my head, one after another. But I just figured I'd let him speak for himself.

"What happened after that?" I asked him, trying to make my voice sound comforting.

Arnold groaned, lifting his feet onto our couch and laying his head on his knees. He looked like a child in that moment, but I couldn't hold it against him. Heartache does strange things to people. "I asked her why, and she..." He paused, and I got this sick feeling in my stomach that he was crying. I mean, most people would scorn a grown man for crying, but Arnold cried just about as much as I do, which is never. And getting dissed during the proposal is a pretty good reason to break down. He lifted his head eventually, but his eyes were dry, which relieved my heart a little bit, but the twisted frown on his lips kept that concern up to it's highest level. "She started crying, and every time I tried to comfort her, she would move away from me. But... all I could get out of her was... she kept asking me _why_ I wanted to marry her. That she doesn't really believe that I love her as much as she loves me." Suddenly, Arnold's eyes lifted to meet mine, and there was a slight desperation there. "You know I love her, right?"

I nodded immediately. "Yeah, it sickens me. But _she_ doesn't believe that you really do? I mean... after all these years of you guys breaking it off, and then pulling it back together doesn't prove that to her? That long, hilarious rant four years ago about you loving her since you were three? That wasn't enough for her?"

He sighed and shook his head. "I guess not. But... I mean, you see it right?"

"You're damn right I do."

"I love her so much, it kills me sometimes."

"I know. And like I said, it sickens me. You two are horrible for each other." Arnold's head snapped up, and the glare that he shot me held enough venom to kill a fully grown man if left untreated, so I quickly added, "I mean... that wasn't really what I meant." I sighed, leaning forward and putting my elbows on my knees. "Look, you two have the most dysfunctional relationship I've ever seen in my life. You guys are more turbulent than _Rhonda and Curly_ , if you'd believe that. But, at the same time, you two are meant for each other. After all these years, that should be obvious. Even when you two aren't together, I can still see it in your eyes that you're just waiting for the right moment to whisk her off her feet. And you always do, Arnold. You always manage to reel her back in. Just like she's always done to you. You guys aren't ever going to leave each other. Neither of you will let that happen, and I think that should be pretty clear." He just looked at me semi-blankly, but I could see hope in his eyes. I latched onto that. "So she said no. That won't last forever. You guys will make up. And I know this fight feels like it's the end, because marriage is a huge step, and if one of you isn't ready for it, it could really put a strain on your relationship. And what I'm about to say might not really sound like it'll help, but it will, I promise.

"You're relationship is _always_ strained. It's _always_ on the edge of breaking. You guys are dumping each other so often, it doesn't even really effect me anymore. So what's a little more weight on the bungee cord? I promise you, Arnold, one day you guys'll figure each other out, and then this whole blame-game can end. I mean... it's been four years, that's bound to happen soon, right? You'll find your balance."

Arnold looked thoughtful for a moment, before his face fell again. "I know... but... I mean, we were solid for four months straight. That's a record for us!" I wanted to snort at the ridiculousness of the statement, but I figured that wouldn't help the situation. "I thought everything was going great. I thought she'd actually say yes. When we get along, our relationship is _perfect_. It's _heaven_. But... when it's bad... it's _really_ bad. This stupid roller coaster that she's got me strapped to will be the death of me." He contemplated something for a moment before continuing. "But, I guess I won't let her off, either. She's stuck with me. There is no way in _hell_ I'm ever letting her go. I just thought... I thought she knew that. And... I know she loves me, but what if she leaves me because she thinks I don't feel the same way as her?"

"Than that'll be the stupidest thing she'll ever do," I said nonchalantly. I was slightly surprised that Arnold hadn't glared at me for that one, but it was an obvious response. Even he was thinking it.

"You think she'll come back?" Arnold asked after a prolonged moment of silence. His voice was back to being meek again, much to my slight anger and immense chagrin.

"There's not a doubt in my mind," Phoebe answered, offering him a sincere smile. "Her love for you is much too strong for her to throw you aside for a reason so clearly false as that." She patted his shoulder. "I promise you, everything will be alright -"

As soon as that word left her mouth, our front door suddenly banged open, and then slammed shut again. Everybody knew who it was even before she stomped into the living room. Only one person was so presumptuous. And only one other person had just experienced emotional turmoil.

"PHOEBE!" she yelled from the kitchen. "WHERE ARE YOU? I NEED YOU!"

I glanced over at Arnold, and his face was pale, a little frightened, but mostly just really, really sad. My heart went out for him. My relationship with Phoebe was always pretty steady, and, while we did fight occasionally, her presence always calmed me. Seemed like Helga's presence did the exact opposite for my man Arnold. And if Phoebe had ever said no to my proposal, I think I'd pretty much be in the same state as him.

"I-In the living room, Helga!" Phoebe squeaked, looking up at me, as if checking to see if she had done the right thing. I nodded at her, giving her a grin, and I attempted to lose myself in her sudden smile, but then the terror showed up.

"Oh, thank God, Phoebe, you'll never believe what -"

When she caught sight of Arnold, she froze. In any other circumstance, that would've been funny as hell, but she looked even worse than Arnold. Her eyes were puffy and red, still leaking a few tears here or there, her face was splotchy, her hair messy from being twisted in her fingers, and one of her fists was bruised. Only God knows what the hell she did to bruise her knuckles at this time of night. She could've knocked out some random civilian on the streets, or demolished a brick wall or something. You just never know with Pataki.

Her eyes were trained on Arnold, and he was staring back at her just as intently. They were about to have a heart-to-heart, I could tell... there were about to be apologies, and a couple love confessions, maybe a little more crying, but instead...

" _Football Head_..." she snarled at him, her hands balling into fists at her sides and her once-sad face twisting into a scowl. "What are you doing here?"

Arnold's previously heart-broken face hardened and he glared back at her. "Visiting my friends after _you_ broke my heart. What are _you_ doing here?"

"Broke your heart?" Helga asked incredulously, taking a dangerous step towards him. "What the hell are you _talking_ about, Head Boy!"

He growled at her, hopping over our sofa so he could get closer to her. "You remember... I got down on one knee, told you you were the best thing that ever happened to me, asked you to be my wife, got violently rejected, almost punched in the face when I begged to know why you were so upset? That ring a bell, Helga?!"

It'd been a while since I'd been in the same room as them when they were fighting. Actually, it hadn't been since _high school_ that I'd witnessed an all-out yelling war, but this sounded pretty much like it did that last time. Their relationship hadn't changed at all since then, except now sometimes they called each other boyfriend and girlfriend, and they exchanged 'I love you's' and other romantic couple stuff. But the fighting? Yeah, it hadn't toned down at all. The situation they were in even made it worse.

" _Something_ like that rings a bell, but that's definitely not how _I_ remember it!" she spat back, leaning close into his face and pretty much spraying spit on his cheeks. I would've immediately recoiled away from that nastiness, but I'm pretty Arnold's face has been in other, more obscene places on Helga's body, so I guess it wouldn't be much of a problem for him.

"Oh, yeah?" _God, who knew Arnold was such a child_.

"Yeah!" _Okay, well, at least we know where he got it from_.

"Then tell me, _Helga_... how exactly do you remember it? Did I somehow _insult_ you by telling you I love you? It seems like every time I try to prove to you how much you mean to me, you always fly off the handle and take it the wrong way!"

"Oh, do I?"

"Yeah, you do! You are the most infuriating human being I've _ever met_!" Arnold yelled.

"Because _you're_ all rainbows and sunshine!" Helga spat, folding her arms over her chest.

"Compared to you I'm the fucking _Pope_!" he responded, equally as venomous.

"Oh, no you're not, Football Head!" They were pretty much nose-to-nose by now, and I figured that Phoebe and I should probably leave them to it, but I was a little worried for both of their physical safety. It was just like high school all over again; they used to fight so viciously that I was sure one of 'em would punch the other's lights out. "You're just as bad as I am! Maybe even worse! You're broken, confused, and completely crazy! Just like me!"

"I am _not_ broken, I'm _not_ confused, and I'm _not crazy_!" he shouted.

"I beg to differ, Mr. Please Can I Try Something New!"

Arnold gasped, and, from what little I could see of Arnold's face, (as he was pretty much facing entirely away from me), it was bright red. Cue tense pause, before Arnold said, his voice low and undeniably furious, "You promised you'd _never_ bring that up again!"

"WELL, I LIED!" Helga screamed, giving him a shove so hard that his hips crashed into the couch and he nearly toppled over the edge and onto the floor. I looked up at Helga in surprise; the last time I'd seen her lay a violent hand on him was back in junior year when she slapped him in the face, and, when I looked to gauge my wife's reaction, she seemed just as absolutely shocked as I was. I always figured that Helga loved Arnold too much to hurt him, but, then again, she wasn't really trying. I could tell. Helga was a man-hunting _machine_ ; she could take pretty much any guy who crossed her in a fight. Except for maybe Arnold. She'd probably even be able to drop me to the floor in seconds flat, no question! So, no. She didn't try to hurt him. She tried to piss him off, maybe. Disgruntle him. Make him even angrier than she had already made him. Maybe release some of her pent-up anger from over this past hour. You know, that her fist couldn't take care of.

Arnold, instead of looking at her in shock, recovered quickly enough, reaching his arms forward and shoving her back, like it was second nature. Helga stumbled, almost tripping over our rug, but remained upright, (much like Arnold). I knew that Arnold must've held back like crazy. He's a beast strength-wise, but he's always too mild-mannered to really show it off. Hell, he's probably stronger than me, and I played college basketball and had to work out pretty much three hours a day. It's that stupid black belt, I swear. Helga really must've ruffled his feathers, with something that she said/did in that moment, because Arnold was a genius when it came to "controlling his anger and finding his center," whatever the hell that means. It takes a whole lot for Arnold to lose it to the point where he pushes a lady back in retaliation.

"Hey!" Helga shouted, glancing down at herself as if she had been injured, before shifting her glare back at him. Man, if I were Arnold, I would've recoiled instantly from a look that lethal. But, because he was fearless Arnold who could take on Helga Pataki and apparently win, he didn't even flinch. "Hands _off_ the merchandise!"

"That's not what you said last night!" Arnold yelled back, folding his arms over his chest. "Now, if you're finished acting like a nine-year-old, do you think you could maybe talk to me?"

"Talk?!" Helga scoffed, matching his body language and turning away. "Yeah, right. Have you _met_ me? I'm Helga G. _Pataki_ , remember? _Not_ Helga G. _Shortman_."

Arnold jolted in response to the jab, and I winced. Not a good move on Pataki's part. That was the entire reason Arnold had come over here in the first place: she rejected him. She rejected him and still found it in herself to mock his rejection? Like she didn't even care? I realized in that very moment, that if that were a divorce, and I were Helga and Arnold's love child, I would've totally decided to move in with Dad. But that's probably because Arnold's my best friend; it was hard not to take sides, so sue me.

Anyway, another eerie silence filled the room. I watched Arnold's profile anxiously, waiting for whatever his reaction would be. Arnold has always been pretty unpredictable; I mean, sometimes I can kinda guess what he's thinking, but whenever he's planning something? When he's mulling something over? Nope, not a clue. I'm lost. Which was why I had no idea if he was going to yell again, leave without another word, try to reason with her, or even just start making out with her like a horny teenager. Let's face it, ever since freshman year, they've pretty much always been horny teenagers.

"That was a low blow, Helga," Arnold said finally, his voice low and quiet.

"What can I say? I'm manipulative and undermining. I have trust issues, and can't handle leaving the control to someone else. I'll live the life of a lonely, bitter cat lady who never found happiness because she could never find it in herself to truly love anything. _Remember_? Considering it only happened like, an _hour and a half ago_?" Well, I didn't know what the hell she was talking about, but from the way Arnold had tensed again, I could tell _he_ did.

"Come on, Helga, you know I didn't mean it like that -"

"How the _fuck_ could I have possibly misconstrued _manipulative_ and _undermining_? Seems pretty self-explanatory, Football Head!"

"I just... look, we were fighting, and I said some things I didn't mean, alright?!" He yelled, suddenly getting all defensive again. "It's not like _you're_ totally innocent in all this!"

"You're right, I'm not! But everybody _expects_ that from me; I've been nothing but a cruel bully ever since I was three! I've accepted my role in this life, and it's about time you accepted it, too! It's not like you haven't started taking after me or anything -"

"Helga, I've said this before, and I'll say it again! We are _nothing_ alike!"

"Yeah, well... maybe that's the problem!"

A very uneasy silence filled the room. That sounded too much like the beginning of a... very _permanent_ break-up...

Arnold broke the silence, his voice slightly shaky, and yet still confident. "You don't mean that. That's never been the problem."

"Don't be so sure about that!" Helga spat, her previous statement not affecting her in the slightest. "You and me... we're like... like oil and water! We don't mix!"

He growled again, inching towards her. "We've been _mixing_ just fine!"

"Oh, really? Tell me, how many times have we broken up since we got together in the first place?"

Arnold paused uncomfortably. "Well..."

"And the reasoning behind each and every one of our break-ups?" she added on, her voice annoyingly patronizing.

"Um..."

Helga paused, waiting for him to keep speaking, but when he just fell silent, she narrowed her eyes and said, "Ding ding ding, we have a winner. We break up all the time because we _don't get along_. Because we're _too alike_ , yet also _too different_. It's always been that way, ever since preschool!"

Something about Helga's latest jab got under Arnold's skin especially, because he exploded. "YOU ARE SO STUBBORN!"

"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock, pretty sure even _Geraldo_ picked up on that one."

I narrowed my eyes at her, not having expected to be dragged into their little argument. I was going to say something, but Phoebe elbowed me in the side, reminding me that the two messed up blondes before me were actually really heartbroken and hurt, and didn't need me making things worse. I sighed, and ran a hand down my face. I'm making this whole thing sound a little less serious than it actually was. It was really hard to watch them fight, knowing that neither of them really wanted to be fighting in the first place. They were just hurting each other more and more, with no end. It was frustrating, yes, and very obnoxious, but also extremely concerning.

"Why did you say no!" Arnold suddenly shouted at her, clapping two hands on her shoulders. Helga barely flinched at the sudden movement, instead matching his glower.

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know -"

 _"Dammit, Helga_!" Arnold exclaimed, his knuckles whitening from their grip on her body. "I won't leave you alone until you tell me what the _fuck_ is going on in that head of yours! Was it the proposal itself? Was it the fact that it wasn't at some five-star restaurant where everybody could witness it? Was it the fact that I hadn't prepared some _nine_ -course meal to make it the best night of your life? Was it the fact that I used my _grandmother's_ engagement ring, instead of some flashy, brand-new diamond?!"

Helga began to look oddly small under his intense gaze. She grappled for words for a moment, before stuttering out, "No, Arnold - It was... perfect! I couldn't have asked for anything better than what you've given me!"

"Then why did you say no?" he ground out through his teeth.

"Because I... b-because..." Helga's resolve crumbled before our very eyes, and she buried her head in her hands. We all just stared at her for a second, before the sound of her crying reached our ears. The whimpering noises began to get louder, and she shook her head every once in a while, but didn't pull herself out of Arnold's arms. At the height of her sudden weeping, each wail was deafening, and cries racked her body, and, yeah, I'll admit it, I was pretty mad at her for being so stupid all night, but my heart really went out to her. I'd seen her cry before, only once or twice, but I'd _never_ seen her like that before.

I could only see the profile of Arnold's face, but his shoulders relaxed, his knuckles weren't as white clamped onto her shoulders, and I could hear him release a breath. He wrapped his arms around her body, rubbing circles onto her back as she cried into his chest. Arnold's voice was quiet, and I could just barely hear it. "Helga, I love you so much, you have no idea. Even though you're my girlfriend... or... _w-were_ my girlfriend..." he stuttered and my heart broke just a little more for my main man, "I still get so lovesick just being near you. I will never find anyone who will ever compare to you, Helga G. Pataki. And I'd never want to. I love you with my entire heart, my entire soul, my entire body. I belong to you. I always will. Just... please, Helga, just believe me. I love you..."

Helga shook her head against his chest. "B-but..." she mumbled, her voice shaking and saturated with tears. "But you c-can't love _m-me_..."

Arnold sighed. "Why not?"

"Because I'm _me_!" Helga shouted, suddenly wrenching herself from his hold and taking two very large steps away from him.

The room was silent. I had no idea what the hell Helga was talking about, and, when I glanced at Phoebe, I could tell that even she didn't really grasp what was going on, either. But Arnold definitely understood. I could tell by the way his shoulders were tense, the way his jaw suddenly dropped in shock.

"You... you think you don't deserve me..." he mumbled, his voice in awe, like he'd never even considered that a possibility. Helga's silence was answer enough for everybody. "Oh, Helga..." he said softly, quickly crossing the room and pulled her into his chest again. She struggled for a moment, but my man Arnold can be wicked strong when he has to be, so, even though she was Helga G. Pataki, she wasn't going anywhere.

Finally she stilled, and let him hold her.

" _You_... Helga G. Pataki, think you don't deserve _me_?" He chuckled, (or, well, I guess it was a chuckle). "You deserve _more_ than me. You deserve much, _much_ more than me. But, for some reason that I will never understand, you actually love _me_. I'm the luckiest man on earth to even be able to hold you right now. You're the most amazing person I've ever met, Helga." He pulled back slightly and stared at her. "I. Love. You." And with that, he grabbed the side of her head and laid a kiss on her lips. I'd only ever seen them kiss a handful of times, (which was good, because I can't afford to vomit that often, bad for the body), but I'd never seen them kiss like this. Usually when they kissed, it looked like they were trying to chew each other's lips off, but this time, Arnold surprisingly _didn't_ look like he wanted to eat her for lunch.

When he pulled back, Arnold dropped to one knee and pulled a small ring from his front jean pocket. He lifted it up so Helga could see it and said, "Helga. Marry me, please. For the both of us. Before we go crazy. I can't live without you. We were only a part for like an hour or so before you showed up here, and I missed you. _One hour_ and I missed you. Of course, I didn't think you'd ever come back, but that's... just forget it." His speech was getting less and less romantic, but more and more amusing for me. "Let me be your husband. Boyfriend... it just isn't enough for me anymore. Especially since, over the past four years, I've only been the boyfriend about half the time. If we get married, we can still break up all we want, but I'll still get to be your husband."

Helga actually smirked at that, and Arnold visibly relaxed.

"Please, Helga?" he asked, reaching for one of her hands to put the ring on. "Please marry me."

Her smirk had fallen, her eyes widened, and her lips pursed. The longer the silence filled the room, the more anxious we all became. Pretty much everything in me begged her to say yes. Look, I'm not a romantic or anything, but the whole game thing they'd been playing was getting real old, and I just wanted it to be over. And I wanted Arnold to be happy, finally. Completely and totally happy. And if she said no, he'd be crushed. And if he was crushed, then I'm pretty sure I'd be pretty crushed, too.

Finally, though her face was still fairly stoic, she managed a small nod. I wouldn't have noticed it, had I not been staring intently at her face, waiting for some sign that she'd give an answer either way.

"Did... did you just nod?" Arnold asked, his voice hushed and surprised. And happy.

Helga nodded again, larger this time, and a small smile was tugging at her lips.

"You nodded!" Arnold cheered, slipping the ring onto her finger and jumping to his feet. He grabbed her by the waist and spun her around in a circle, laughing giddily and beaming up at her. She had started to giggle. (I know... Helga G. Pataki... _giggling_... I'd never heard it before that point, either, but Arnold talked about it constantly, so I knew it had to exist _somewhere_ inside of her.) He dropped her down again, grabbing onto her face, his fingers tangling into her ratty hair, and engulfing her lips with his.

There it was. The completely unnecessary kiss that should be reserved for bedrooms. Did they honestly think Phoebe or I wanted to see that? But I doubt they were even aware of their surroundings. They had always had that affect on each other. Blinding each other with themselves. Psychos, the both of them.

I cleared my throat. As much as I didn't want to interrupt the little reunion thing that they had going on, they _were_ in _our_ living room. They pulled back, neither of them looking the least bit apologetic, and they turned wide grins to us.

"She nodded!" Arnold exclaimed, wrapping an arm tightly around her waist. "She said yes!"

Helga giggled again, burrowing into his side. "I'm _engaged_... I'm engaged to _Arnold_..." she said dreamily, her grin turning all goofy and lovesick. A side of Helga that I'd never seen before, nor would ever like to see again.

Arnold picked up on the tone of her voice, and he looked down at her. I'd never seen him that happy before. Not when he found his Dad's journal in fourth grade; not when he got that letter in the mail saying he made it into his dream school; not when I got him those Jazz Festival tickets for his birthday a few years ago; not even the first time he ever called her his 'girlfriend' in front of me. That last one - I didn't think it was possible for him to be any happier than that. He was all smiles and chuckles and swoons; he would get lost staring at different things, (usually Helga), and just... man, that kid is weird. But when the kid's happy, everyone's happy. He's got this contagious happiness, that whenever he's pleased with something, everybody knows it, and everybody feels it, too. He radiates emotions, which is why it's really hard to be around him when he's sad. It brings you down, seeing him hurting like that. But nope, not this time. This time, he was on _cloud nine_. I'm not even sure he was conscious enough of his body to realize that there were other people watching him. And as he looked down at her, there was such a deep admiration in his eyes that was... well, if I were Helga, I'd be extremely overwhelmed. But then she looked up at him, and that same intensity was there. Probably explains why their fights always got so bad, if they were holding this much emotion inside. Like I said. Psychos, the both of them. "And I'm engaged to _Helga_..." He hummed, laying his cheek on top of her head.

They stood there for a moment, so long that Phoebe and I started to feel a bit uncomfortable with the silence. But then Helga suddenly lifted her head, nearly causing Arnold to bite his lip, and she stared up at him, her face blank, but her eyes thick with... something... "Sex," was all she said, her voice even. "We need to have sex right now."

Arnold moaned... my man, Arnold... _moaned_ in the middle of my living room. "God, yes," he ground out, eagerly letting her grab his hand and pull him towards our front door.

Their departure was so quick, that I just barely go out, "Congratula -" before the door slammed. "-tions," I finished blankly. Completely weirded out by the entire situation, I turned to my wife, and raised an eyebrow. "Are we in agreement?"

Without knowing what I was referring to, she nodded seriously, still staring off in the direction they'd disappeared, her cheeks pink and her beautiful brown eyes wide. "Certainly. We need to find more normal people to associate ourselves with."

I chuckled, wrapping an arm around her and guiding her to our couch so we could _finally_ get on with our night. "Couldn't've said it better myself."


	3. I'm a Total Wet Blanket

"Gerald," Arnold said, his voice louder than normal. He slapped my arm, probably thinking he didn't have my attention. But, come on, you can't ignore drunk Arnold. He's too delirious and amusing. "I love Helga so fucking much."

I rolled my eyes with a smirk, taking a sip of my beer and listening intently his drunken, extremely hilarious, musings. We were in his apartment, sitting at his and Helga's breakfast bar. At the time, it was just Arnold and I at his bachelor party. Arnold had wanted to start off with a bang, and I guess maybe he realized that he wouldn't want too many people around, because he only invited me. Not much of a bachelor party, but I guess I understood. Getting married to the girl of his dreams, who could also snap him like a twig, was a sensitive subject, and all the other friends he had would only be too eager to find out just what the former Helga the Horrible was like in bed. Helga was off in Phoebe and my apartment for their bachelorette party.

Arnold was _almost_ hammered, (he'd had three more beers than me), and, yeah, I was a little buzzed, but I was more aware of my surroundings than my man Arnold. He _was_ able to talk coherently, and he wasn't swaying _too_ bad, but I could tell that there were slight gaps in his paying attention to the world around him. Although, that might also be the result of his _not having shut up about Helga since we sat down_. So that's why I just told him, my voice full of shade, "I know. You've said that about fifty times in the past hour."

He chuckled goofily, nodding eagerly. "But it's true! She's so funny, and I can... be myself around her, you know? I mean, I used to think she... well..." His face got pensive for a moment, before he shook his head, his flopping blonde hair flying around his ears. He looked like a dog. The ones with the really floppy ears, the big eyes, and the ability to have a lot of energy, while also being pretty calm. "I thought she used to hate me. A _lot_. I thought she hated me with every single hate-fiber she had. She's just so good at acting, I _never_ would've guessed if she never told me." I rolled my eyes again. I totally knew, ever since freshman year, that she _had_ to have had a thing for him. I just never clued him in, figuring it was her deal to expose him to her gross, love-dovey feelings. "And it's just..." his drunken grin fell and he frowned sadly at the beer bottle he had gripped in his hands. "I want her to be happy, but sometimes I feel like she's just _never_ happy. Her parents really fucked her up. I mean... why else did she say no the first time? She's got this... she thinks I'm just this..." He sighed, trying to find the best way to word what he was trying to say. "This perfect person, who's perfect even when he's messing up left and right, and it's not fair that she doesn't... that she doesn't _like_ herself. I mean, she's getting there, I think. She's starting to embrace her poetry, and her amazing way with words. She even lets me read her old pink-book poems back from when we were at P.S. 118." Arnold got this amused look in his head and he looked over to me, his eyes slightly glazed over. "Remember that pink book we found on the bus in fourth grade? Yep. Hers." He chuckled. "She's the sappiest person I've ever met."

"Wait, really?" That actually surprised me. I mean, I knew Helga wrote poetry. _Love_ poetry, but I just never made the connection. I've even seen her handwriting since then, and she's always had a thing for the color pink, so it made total sense. Because the evidence was so obvious, and so clearly right in front of my face, I started feeling like a complete idiot. "Man, that's so funny. I should've known."

He grinned, taking a swig of his beer. "Yeah, _I_ didn't even know until she told me. Made me feel like a moron. Talking to her always makes me kinda feel like a moron." He sighed, getting that gross, lovesick look in his eyes. "She's really smart. I mean... _really_ smart. Back in fourth grade, she had the highest aptitude scores, since her sister. And she had straight-A's all through high school. And she made the Dean's List every semester in college. I found her congratulations letters in a box in our closet. She was proud of herself, but she didn't want people to know, for some, probably ridiculous, reason. And she has the audacity to think _I'm_ perfect." He scoffed, rolling his blood-shot eyes. "It's the only time I'll ever call her crazy."

I smirked at him. "Oh, really? _That's_ the only time you'll ever call her crazy? What about all those fights you had when you called her insane?"

Arnold's smile dropped and he scowled over at me. "Shut up, Gerald. I always apologize for that, and she always forgives me, and then we'll always forget about it." He paused a moment, his scowl faltering before returning full-strength. "And she's _not_ crazy. So _don't_ call her that ever again."

I had to hold back a laugh. I never really _mean_ it when I insult her; it's just so fucking hilarious to watch him get all riled up about it. But, hey. It was his bachelor party, so I figured I should let up. He was also drunk, and I didn't want him to sock me in the jaw or something in a temporary fit of insanity. He has only ever punched someone in the face _once_ in his life, and it was in high school. Sid. The idiot was... well, _he_ called it _flirting_ with Helga, although, really, it was more like harassment. All he was doing was just calling her all these demeaning names and stuff, trying to grab at her chest, and Arnold just completely lost it. Almost broke his pickle nose. I was shocked, but didn't blame him. The guy had it coming. I mean, yeah, it was Helga, so Arnold was going to get all extra pissed off anyway, but even if it _wasn't_ her, he'd... probably still be at least a _little_ pissed off. He hates it when people talk about women like that. I'm the same way. It's disgusting.

But, anyway, back to Arnold's apartment. I held my hands up in surrender, showing him that I didn't mean it and that I'd let us move on. "Okay, I'm sorry, you're right. I didn't mean it."

Arnold's scowl held for a few more seconds before he nodded. "Good. Because she's _not_ crazy. She's perfect. Funny, beautiful, unbelievably smart, independent, stubborn, determined..." He sighed again, that smile returning. "And she's... _really_ fucking sweet." He abruptly sat up, his beer bottle tipping over precariously. "It was about a month ago or something, we were walking to Chez Paris..." He chuckled again, his eyes getting a little distant. "We've had... a _lot_ of good times there. But... anyway, we saw this little girl walking down the sidewalk past us, with no coat on, not hat, no gloves, nothing. I'd never seen a child look so sad in my life. And then Helga, she just _gave_ her sweater to this little girl, even though she had no idea who the girl was. And it was so cold out that day..." He shivered. "I'm telling you, Gerald, when I saw that... I fucked her _so_ hard when we got back to our apartment -"

I grimaced, inching away from him. After all the years I'd known her, Helga had turned into this obnoxious little sister to me. And I did _not_ need to hear about her... physical relations with my man Arnold. Besides, I've heard _enough_ innuendos from her; I didn't need to hear anymore. "Okay, I don't think I needed to know that -"

"She's so fucking great in bed -"

"Arnold, man, too much information -"

He completely ignored me. He was too far gone in Helga land to really realize that he was dishing out kinda gross details about his sex life. Sober Arnold would be blushing like crazy if he knew what he was saying. "She's so flexible, Gerald! She can do a split and everything. One time, we were in bed, and she laid down on her back, and both of her legs were like..." He made a weird gesture with his arms, which I'm sure did nothing to explain what the hell he was talking about. "Just completely resting on the bed, in a _straight line_ , and I was laying on my stomach in front of her... Oh, man, I just about exploded just looking at her -"

I punched him on the arm, successfully shutting him up. Temporarily. "Dude, seriously," I scolded. "I get that you're getting married in two days, and that you're wasted right now, but that's no excuse to dump your nastiness on me."

Arnold just laughed, his chuckles off-beat and a _tad_ too loud. "Sorry, Gerald. But it's just... I keep all this stuff inside all the time, and only really Helga sees me when I get like this. And when I say she sees me... She..." He got this dark look in his eyes, and I was tempted to call Helga just to ask her to get him off so he could leave me out of his bedroom life. I'm sure Arnold wouldn't object. " _Sees_ me... Know what I mean?"

"Yes, Arnold. I know what you mean."

"Helga's right," he continued, taking a swig from his beer bottle. I made a vow that that was his last beer before I cut him off. Enough's enough. As funny as I was sure his bachelor party would be the next morning, and as much as I'll never let him forget it for the rest of his life, he was kinda getting on my nerves. "I'm a total wet blanket. I get all... shy and shit whenever I'm... you know, not drunk, but like... man, around Helga I am... the _complete_ opposite."

"Arnold, shut up, I get it."

Arnold rolled his eyes, waving me off. "Alright, alright, I can take a hint. I... kinda have a feeling I'll regret this conversation tomorrow, anyway." That made a smirk spread all across my face, because I knew he was right. He was going to be _so_ embarrassed the next morning, but I swore to myself that I would take no hostages. He was going to get every joke, every jeer, every taunt, and I wasn't going to feel bad for him. He scarred me for _life_ that day. "And... well, I'm... sorry, I guess, that I keep talking about Helga. But it's just..." he looked timid all of a sudden. "I'm always thinking about her. And I'm also drunk. And I'm _marrying_ her two days. In two days, she's gonna be Helga G. Shortman. She even agreed to take my last name!" He beamed proudly at me, taking another drink from his bottle. "I was so happy when she told me. And no details, I promise, but like... I know we fuck all the time, but that was... _that_ was making love."

I was happy for him. I really was. Still am. Arnold, more than anybody else I know, (besides maybe Helga), deserves to be happy. He _deserves_ a happy ending. I mean, the kid has gone through hell, what with being taunted for having no parents growing up, from _adults_ as well as other kids. In high school the bitchy English nerds used to call him Pip, and Oliver Twist, and even _Mowgli_. That last one... well, that was the one that people who knew him more personally would call him, usually behind his back. A lonely boy with no parents who belonged in a jungle. As depressing as that is, it... ugh, it _fits_. And the kicker was that nobody knew for sure if they were dead or not. Most people _assumed_ they were, but Arnold never got any concrete answers about where his mom and dad disappeared to. For a while he kept telling me that his parents _were_ still alive, that they were just lost. He was _sure_ they'd just show up on his doorstep one day, safe and sound and ecstatic to see him. No one wanted to burst his bubble, so everybody acted like they believed him, but nobody did. Helga in particular defended the hell out of him if anything came up. If she heard _anybody_ calling him _anything_ that even _remotely_ resembled their _hinting_ at him having no parents, she would fly off the handle, just like he'd do if someone insulted her. In our sophomore year, Helga got into a fist fight with two junior guys from the football team because they stole Arnold's hat and called him "orphan boy". The bastards broke her arm, but, man, you should've seen the mangled mess she left them when all was said and done. One of 'em had his shoulder dislocated, and the other had a broken nose and a concussion. They didn't go to a teacher or anything, mostly because they didn't want anyone to know that they lost a fight to a 5'6'', 110 pound girl with pigtails, who also happened to be a year younger than them. My respect for her skyrocketed that day.

Arnold's pet pig Abner got run over by a bus when Arnold was sixteen, and the kid was a wreck. I walked in on him one night a couple weeks after the accident, drunk off his ass, and, when he was coherent enough to speak, he told me that Abner was one of the last things of his parents that he had left, and it was gone. After that, he gave up on waiting for Miles and Stella. I never saw him with his blue hat on again, and he put his father's journal, as well his parents' picture, in a box and shoved it in the back of his closet. The only time he ever looked inside that box was on October 5th, the anniversary that they left him behind for San Lorenzo. He would lock himself in his bedroom and wouldn't let anybody come in, not even his grandparents, or Helga, or me. Broke my heart seeing him like that.

His grandparents died in their sleep when he was nineteen, on the same night. Arnold got a call from Ernie Potts one morning in the spring of his freshman year of college, telling him he had just lost the only parents he'd ever known. He was devastated. The whole year, he barricaded himself in his dorm room, refusing to talk to anybody. Helga didn't even know that Gertie and Phil passed away. She didn't find out until Phoebe and my wedding. Arnold didn't want to tell her; he told me I was not _allowed_ to tell her, under any circumstance. He made Phoebe promise, too. I never really got why. I mean, Helga was his best friend, next to me, so he should've known she'd be there for him.

Speaking of Helga, throughout all of that shit, (amidst minor breaks in fighting), he was constantly on this emotional roller coaster with her, and just _watching_ it made me feel exhausted. I can't _imagine_ that that was easy on his sanity.

So, yes. I sat through him going on and on and on about his fiance, only interrupting him every once in a while when he ranted a bit too much. He'd apologize for rambling; we'd talk about something else; some random thing would remind him of Helga; he would go off about her again. The lovesick moron. I can only imagine how exasperated Phoebe must've been on that same night, dealing with Helga panicking about getting married, and not shutting up about _Arnold_. My beautiful wife sure pulled the short straw. At least Arnold knew when to knock it off. Helga doesn't have a filter, and was probably just babbling on about grotesque details that only their bedroom walls could attest to.

Bringing myself back to the present, I held a fist out to Arnold, and he grinned happily, commencing our classic handshake. "I'm really happy for you, man," I told him honestly. "It's about time you tied the knot. And here's to your marriage being less dysfunctional than your dating life." I held my beer bottle up to him, half expecting him to get angry, but he just smirked at me and clinked the bottles together.

"I'll drink to that," he said with a chuckle, chugging the rest of his truth juice and slamming it down on the table. His face looked thoughtful for a moment, before he shifted his gaze onto me and said, "I think I should stop drinking."

I laughed at that, nodding in agreement. At least his judgement wasn't _completely_ out the window. I slapped him on the back and smirked at him when he smiled good-naturedly at me. "Yeah, before you making an even bigger fool of yourself," I said, taking a deep swig of my own beer. "Water," I said, nodding in the direction of the stack of bottle waters in the corner. "Hangover protection."

Arnold rolled his eyes, rising to his feet and grabbing a few bottles, for him and me. He opened one, took a long drink, and then set it back on the table again. We had fallen into a comfortable silence at that point, me taking sips from my beer every now and then, and Arnold thinking about... whatever the hell he was thinking about.

We must've been sitting there for half an hour or so, occasionally starting up conversations about sports, and movies, and work, and just life in general, and laughing at some random shit that's only funny when you're drunk. And because the atmosphere was so relaxed, calm, and quiet, the moment the front door flung open, I just about had a heart attack and dropped the glass bottle in my hand. The footsteps, (or, as I would later discover, _pair_ of footsteps), that came running into the dining room was a far cry from the stomping around that I was used to. And yes, both Arnold and I knew _exactly_ who it was. She wasn't very inconspicuous.

Helga slid to a halt in the doorway, her eyes locking with Arnold's immediately and she beamed at him. "Football Head!" she exclaimed, sprinting over to him and settling herself down on his lap, a knee on either side of his hip. Arnold looked incredibly confused, but he also didn't look at all inclined to reject her sudden physical act of admiration. She had her arms wrapped around his neck and, without hesitation, started frantically kissing him all over his face. Arnold's confusion melted immediately.

A throat clear drew my attention away from Arnold and Helga, and I smiled when I saw my own wife standing in the doorway, an embarrassed blush on her face, and sheepish look in her eye. Could that woman be anymore beautiful? I remember thinking, but the reality of the situation was just way too absurd for me to get too caught up in her. "Hey, Babe," I said, standing up and walking over to her, slipping an arm around her shoulder. "Party over already?"

Phoebe giggled. "Not exactly. We just finished a bottle of red wine and Helga gets a little... special when she drinks red wine," she explained, nodding her head in the direction of the soon-to-be newlyweds. In all the excitement, Arnold had somehow managed to wrap his arms around her waist, and was pressing her flush against him, accepting the fluster of kisses that she was still placing all over his face. He had that gross lovesick grin on his face, and he was staring at her with his half-lidded eyes, completely entranced by the girl's mere presence. Mmm mmm mmm. If somebody told nine-year-old Gerald that this would be his future, he'd laugh in the messenger's face.

"H-Helga," Arnold said quietly, trying to get her attention, probably so he could ask her what the hell she was doing.

"Mhmm," Helga said absently, her fingers tangling in Arnold's hair and tugging.

"Wh-what," he tried to get out, but then Helga seized his head roughly in her hands and pulled his lips straight onto her mouth. Arnold mumbled against her lips for a few seconds, before his eyes slid shut and he grabbed her ass, clearly trying to pull her closer to him. And they were fast at it, moaning into each other's mouths, and panting when they separated. And then just when you thought it was over, they'd start right up again.

All in all, it was a pretty gross sight, and I was about to let myself and my wife out of the apartment as quickly as possible, but then Arnold spoke again, his words shocking me so much that I momentarily forgot to move.

"As fun as it is to do this on a chair, I'd much rather do it in bed... So, what do you say? You want to be a good fiance and get on your back?" Arnold said, his voice husky and teasing. My jaw just about dropped open at that. I'd never heard him like that before, but I guess that's what he meant when he said that only Helga saw him in such a state as that. I half expected Helga to cuss him out for giving her any orders at all, but she just squealed, jumping up from his lap and high tailing it in the direction of their bedroom. (A place that I refuse to ever go.) Arnold stared after for a few more seconds, but then he must've realized that there were other people in the room with him. His gaze flicked over to Phoebe and I, and he flushed scarlet, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he slowly rose to his feet. _Oh, so_ now _he's going to start acting all shy.._. "Heh heh heh... well, um... sorry about cutting the, uh, the bachelor party short, but, uh..." He glanced back in the direction Helga had disappeared, before looking back at us. "Fiance calls," he explained awkwardly, running an embarrassed hand through his hair. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked me sincerely, even daring to look guilty for just _humoring_ the idea of fucking his wife-to-be when we're supposed to be drinking and hanging out.

Normally, I'd be just a little peeved at him skipping out on me, but I recognized that he was getting married in two days. I figured I'd let him have his fun. "Arnold, if you keep that girl waiting, it'll be both of our heads," I said, offering him a grin. "Don't worry about it."

He looked extremely relieved. "Thanks, Gerald. I really owe you one -"

"Hurry, _mon amour,_ " came Helga's distant voice, followed by a quiet, yet still audible purr. My obnoxious little sister. _Purring_. It's enough to make you nauseous. And it was even worse when Arnold shivered at the sound of her voice, but then it got _even worse_ when Helga kept talking. "You _did_ want me on my back, right? Well, here I am... just _waiting_ for you to -"

Through Helga's sudden, brief speech, Arnold shifted his weight between his feet, obviously trying to figure out a polite way to ask us to get lost. The second he heard her voice, his eyes didn't leave the hallway that lead to his bedroom, not even for a second. He interrupted her, thank _God_ , before she could go into details about what she wanted him to do to her. "Be patient, _mi alma_ , I'm coming," he answered, his voice light and romantic and junk. He swooned, inching towards where Helga was, and he said absently to us, "Um... you can... let yourself out, right?"

I rolled my eyes, taking pity on the extremely eager kid, and I gently guided my wife towards his front door. "Yeah, we can take it from here."

"Great," Arnold said quickly, shooting me a grin and waving a goodbye to me. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, feeling extremely amused at the whole situation. Arnold bolted away from us, not even bothering to see if we'd left or not, but the memory of the hilarious boy-like eagerness on his face... I just couldn't be mad at him. Like I said before, the kid deserves to be happy, and Helga's the thing that will make him happiest. In saying that, I pulled Phoebe out of that apartment as quickly as possible, on the off-chance that they... I don't know, start? or whatever you want to call it.

Either way, getting the hell out of the there and back to _sanity_ seemed like a pretty idea to me.


End file.
